


on the love life of goats

by pools_of_venetianblue



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Barnyard Animals, F/M, Gen, Goats, Robin is dating, Silly, Strike is making it difficult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26655505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pools_of_venetianblue/pseuds/pools_of_venetianblue
Summary: Cormoran and Robin have a conversation about goats, that is not really about goats.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott & Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 27
Kudos: 90





	on the love life of goats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foreverhalffull](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverhalffull/gifts).



> This short and silly fic is dedicated to [foreverhalffull](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverhalffull/pseuds/foreverhalffull/works?fandom_id=6726952), whose confident assertion that goats were the new swans brought me endless delight, and whose careful research about their mating habits I could not let go to waste. 😘

  
"I've never liked them," Robin said. Strike started; he'd been staring idly into the neighbouring field while they waited for their interviewee to finish giving a talk about raising chickens to a group of schoolchildren, and he hadn't noticed her come up to lean on the fence beside him. At his blank look, Robin gestured to the field in front of them. "Goats," she clarified.

"Ah." Brought back to the present, Strike could see that there were indeed several of the animals milling about in the field. He hadn't registered their presence, preoccupied as he'd been with mulling over thoughts of how pretty Robin had looked that morning in the spring sunshine. Feeling as though she was waiting for some sort of thoughtful response, he focused on the goats. He couldn't see anything particularly offensive about them; one was lying on a patch of dirt, its eyes narrowed to slits and its ears twitching lazily. A couple of others were grazing on the long grass at the edges of the field. Yet Robin was scowling at them as if they'd personally offended her.

"Why's that?" he hazarded.

"They're absolute prats," Robin said, and caught off guard, Strike smiled at her indignance. "Look at that one!"

Strike looked obediently to where Robin was pointing; a black and white goat, a bit larger than the others, was pacing beside a smaller brown animal. Occasionally it would kick out one of its front legs, making a strange clucking noise. Unsure of what, precisely, he was meant to be gathering from this behaviour, Strike remained silent.

"It's what they do, when they're trying to mate," Robin explained. Strike's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. When he had gotten in the Land Rover that morning, he had not expected to be subjected to a discussion on the mating habits of barnyard animals.

"Won't mount her himself—" Strike snorted. Robin ignored him, carrying on, "but won't let any of the other bucks near her either. Just follows her around all day; not a moment's peace for her, the poor thing." 

Strike shifted uncomfortably, unsure of the direction this conversation had taken. 

"Doesn't seem like she's that bothered," he muttered. The little brown goat appeared to be ignoring the prancing male completely as it chewed contentedly on a bit of grass. Robin sighed, then shook her hair back and grinned at Strike.

"Alright, I'm a bit biased," she admitted. "I got knocked to the ground by one of them on my uncle's farm, when I was little. Landed right in a puddle of mud, ruined my Sunday dress... Mum was furious."

Strike laughed.

"Shall we head over?" Robin said, and Strike nodded, following Robin away from the pen, leaving the goats to their courtship.

"How was your date?" he asked idly as they walked. "The one with that bloke I met."

Robin stared. "Do you mean Pete? Pete, who you spent the entire conversation interrogating as if he were a suspect in a murder?"

Strike shrugged. "Well, you have to be careful with those internet dates."

"Pete, who you _scowled_ at and and _loomed_ over until he was terrified into complete silence?"

"Yeah, him." 

"That date went _really well_ ," Robin said, layering the sarcasm on thick. "Absolutely smashing. We're talking wedding plans. He wants you to be best man."

"Ah." Strike was trying valiantly to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching, and he suspected, from the way Robin had angled her face away from him, that she was struggling similarly.

"It's probably for the best," he said cheerfully, as he held open a swinging wooden gate for Robin. "D'you really want to date a bloke who can't hold up under basic interrogation?" 

Robin rolled her eyes. "You are such a prat," she muttered, but he could hear the laughter in her voice, and as she passed him, he caught, floating above the smells of the barnyard, a hint of her perfume, and smiled.


End file.
